Who Guards the Guardians?
by soulnecklace
Summary: Long ago, two boys began an unlikely friendship. Whoever knew it would last so long? This is the backstory of Reg and Greg, and how they became guards.


At twelve, Reg was an orphan, his parents having been killed in a freak wave at sea. Or so one story went. Others said she pushed him in, then, toppling overboard, drowned herself. Either way, bodies and boat were never found and the young lad left behind needed care.

Off went Reg to the orphanage, a small and lovely stone building, bounded by roses and thatched with golden straw. And until Reg arrived, the house was a pleasant enough place. Five children lived there; three boys and two girls aged four to fourteen, under the care of Master and Mistress Bensemann. All had been orphaned through various accidents. And all the children, save Reg, missed their parents deeply.

Reg was given a room with Stefan and Griff. Reg, being an only child, was accustomed to getting his own way. He did not appreciate the company of others, and resented having to go to school. Truth be told, he did not miss his parents much, as they had been rarely home, spending most of their time at sea. But he did miss his house and the ability to do what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. In the orphanage, he felt hounded.

"Clean your room, Reg." "Make your bed, Reg." "Reg, wash behind your ears."

He glowered at Mistress Bensemann. "Ain't going to. You can't make me."

"I can't," she said. "But Master Bensemann can. You want to try your luck with my husband, boy?"

Master Bensemann, a butcher, had heavy, strong hands, and knew how to use them.

So Reg did as he was bid, though he did it reluctantly, with much sighing and evil looks.

"The amount of trouble required to get that boy to anything," said Mistress Bensemann to her husband. "I tell you, 'twould be easier to let him go his own way."

Her husband sniffed. "Seems he's had a more than enough of his own way."

When the adults weren't around, Reg took to tormenting the other children: leaving tacks in their beds, tripping them at the top of the stairs, pulling their hair on the way to school. Some nights he put a pillow on Stefan's face – it was funny to see Stefan thrash around like a beached fish. Once, the stupid boy wet the sheets. Mistress Bensemann had not been happy and oh, it had been grand to see goody-good Stefan get into trouble.

The little children avoided Reg as much as possible – only the unlucky Griff and Stefan had much contact with the thickset bully. They hated him greatly.

"Need to get rid of him," said Griff.

"But how?" Stefan asked.

"Could tell the Mistress?"

Stefan shook his head. "He'll know it was us. And when she's not there, he'll pick on us all the more."

Griff pursed his lips. "Hmmm. So, we need him to _want_ to leave."

Stefan nodded. "Exactly."

"How old is he, do you know?"

Griff looked surprised. "Same as us, ain't he? Near on thirteen?"

"I have an idea," said Stefan, slowly.

One summer evening, the boys sat upstairs in their bedchamber. Griff and Stefan were finishing their homework while Reg carved rude pictures on the roof beams.

"What are you going to do, when school finishes?" Griff asked Stefan. Schooling ended at the end of a child's thirteenth year. Most went on to work on a family business, or took an apprenticeship into a trade, although it could be a mite different for orphans.

"I'm going in for scribery," Stefan said, proudly. "Schoolmaster recommended me special."

Reg pretended not to listen, but inside he smiled. Who wanted to be a scribe – locked in a room all day, peering at letters on a page? Puny Stefan was ideal scriber fodder, with his peaky nose and his tiny, pale, useless body.

"What about you?" Stefan asked.

Griff smiled. "Mistress Bensemann says there's an opening at the millhouse."

Despite himself, Reg was impressed. Milling was a good trade. A miller had status.

Griff looked at Reg. "Reg? What will you do?"

Surprised that they would talk to him direct, Reg shrugged. He'd never considered what he would do once school ended. School just …was.

"Have you thought about the army?" asked Griff.

"Whatcha mean?" Reg asked.

"The army," said Griff. "Didn't you see them at school? They're recruiting - they want boys like you."

Reg blinked. Did Griff actually pay _attention_ at school? Reg just stared out the window, letting his mind go blank. He loved the feeling of letting his mind just float.

Stefan looked at Griff. "Mind you, you have to be pretty strong to be in the army."

Reg was strong. He was well-built, everyone said so. And, when Mistress Bensemann nagged him enough, he could chop wood faster than the rest of the orphans.

Once the other boys were asleep, Reg lay thinking about the army. Would be a good place for him, all those weapons. Imagine being high on a horse, with a lance and a sword and shield. Maybe even a squire. And if there was fighting, he'd be sure to win. Then he'd be a hero!

"Sir Reg," he whispered in the darkness. "Sir Reginald."

In the morning, he went to Mistress Bensemann. "I want to join the army."

"Are you sure, Reg? 'Tis a hard life."

Was she calling him a weakling? "I'm strong," he said, pulling up his sleeve so she could see his muscles. "See?"

"Stop showing off, you young fool," growled Master Bensemann. He scratched the back of his neck, looked at his wife. "Might be good for him and all."

Mistress Bensemann still looked worried. "Don't know if he's the type they want."

"Course he is," said Stefan, chipper after an unusually good sleep. "He'll fit right in."

"You'll have to work hard, boy. They won't tolerate no shirking in the army. You sure you're up to it?"

Forgetting that he protested each and every chore, Reg felt stung. "Course I am."

Master Bensemann stood, put his empty porridge bowl in the washing up barrel. "Well, lad, if that's what you want, I'll have a word with the recruiters."

Reg got his own breakfast from the porridge pot, poured milk on it. Never even a thought of saying thank you, thought Mistress Bensemann. But that's the lad all over. He'll be in for a shock, army life being all about discipline.

She caught Stefan and Griff exchanging a look and a smile. So, that's where this has come from. Reg has been put up to this. Ah, well, it will be better for the rest of the children if he's gone. It might have been her imagination, but breakfast seemed more cheerful than usual.


End file.
